


solitude

by Splashattack



Series: Wilde Week 2020 [4]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Afterlife, M/M, Resurrection, Spoilers for Episode: e176 Last Words Part 1 (Rusty Quill Gaming), no beta I'm out of unique "no beta" tags, the inherent homoromanticism of going into the spiritual plane to retrieve your "oldest friend"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splashattack/pseuds/Splashattack
Summary: “I’m dead, Zolf,” Wilde eventually states, turning to look at Zolf, who swallows thickly.“Yeah.”written for day four of wilde week.look at the prompt and tell me I could have written anythingotherthan my take on their conversation I dare you
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: Wilde Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029099
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	solitude

**Author's Note:**

> day four: life/death/survival
> 
> I promise this was written before 177 came out :)  
> spoilers for 176

Wilde isn’t sure where he is, or how he got here. He knows that it is quiet, and it is empty, and it is peaceful. The fact occurs to him that he has died, and though he does not have any particular evidence for this, he knows it to be true. 

The city itself isn’t very large. He’s spent hours upon hours exploring its twisting alleys and overlapping walkways, and while it’s absolutely chaotic in its layout, he does have to applaud the clever maximization of space. He doesn’t really know how to explain its boundaries, though: it’s not that buildings melt into the countryside, or that it is encircled by vast stone barriers. The world itself seems to end‒the city falls away to clouds and to what he’d assume is a dizzying drop. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen, which is truly a novel experience at this point.

Wilde is sitting cross-legged on coarse sand, feeling the cold wind whip at his face but numb to it, watching the clouds, when he hears footsteps approach from behind him. He’s been here for what feels like days at this point‒though without any sort of night, it’s hard to tell‒and hasn’t seen a single soul. This is his place, and no one should be here.

He doesn’t turn as the steps grow louder, and he notices an almost scratching weight to the gait. It’s familiar, and the moment he registers it, he knows that it is Zolf who is with him in this vast emptiness.

He is dead. Zolf is alive‒he has to be. He shouldn’t be here.

“Bit quieter than I’d expect for you, Wilde,” he says by way of greeting, and Wilde sighs but doesn’t argue as he scoots over.

“Just my own company. I love it.” _He’s_ not even sure if he’s being sarcastic. Zolf hums, but doesn’t respond, and they stare at swirling fog together for what feels like an eternity.

“I’m dead, Zolf,” Wilde eventually states, turning to look at Zolf, who swallows thickly.

“Yeah.”

Wilde holds his gaze for a moment longer before nodding and looking back at the abyssal mists.

“You can come back, if you want. ‘S why I’m here.”

Wilde runs a finger idly through the sand, tracing into it a swirling path.

“To bring me back?”

Zolf shakes his head. “Not if you’d rather stay.”

Wilde is numb, and he isn’t sure if it’s from the cold around him or the cold within him. He feels so far removed from the beating warmth of life, so impossibly separated from what Zolf is offering, that he isn’t sure what to say, isn’t sure if he even wants to go.

“If it’s the information you need,” he begins, taking a deep breath, “I kept the paperwork in my sock drawer on the ship, in case something like this happened.”

Zolf doesn’t respond for a long while, but Wilde can practically feel the tension rolling off him‒probably would, actually, if he wasn’t so cold.

“‘S not the point.”

“What is? Enlighten me.”

Zolf sighs, and Wilde feels the movement more than hears it, with how close they’re sitting.

“‘M not doing this for any mission, alright? If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s you. If you’d rather stay, Wilde, I understand‒but you don’t have to.”

Wilde squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his forehead into Zolf’s shoulder as he thinks.

Had it been anyone else, he would choose this nothingness over returning to the horror that had taken over his life‒but it wasn’t anyone else. This was _Zolf_.

“Yeah,” he whispers, slowly. “Yeah. I think I’d like to live.”


End file.
